Blood
by Ydarissep
Summary: The Crimson Slaughter begins...


Blood. Blood was everywhere. The interior of the two-headed eagle shaped bastion was awash with it, but more so in the main war room. Aptly named, he thought, as he walked among the ripped and horrific remains of loyalist and traitor. The carapace armored Adeptus Arbites had failed pathetically to stop not only the heretics, but at least made good hunting for the Legion.

He was possessed.

His power armor hummed with electricity, the solar-pack on the back of his armor keeping him supplied. He stood there, in the entrance of the main war-room. He wore no helmet for that was a demonstration of cowardice. His was youthful and unblemished with short-cropped black hair barely even going past his neck or gray eyes. The stabilizing jets that arced over the upper part of the backpack humbly crafted into daemonic maws. Both of his shoulder pads were almost perfectly rounded and the left one had a skull with an Iron Halo around it as an emblem.

He was hungry.

Movement from the left. He sprung to action, drawing the daemon blade _Damnation's Edge. _Upon being drawn from the scabbard, hoarfrost ran along the edge and before the target was able to react, it pierced its chest plate and quickly slid home. In his zeal, he didn't even realize that what had moved was a fellow Battle-Brother. His eyes burned red with anger and murderous intent as he stared up at his killer and for a moment the visage of a daemon flashed over his face before he stilled. Looking down, he noticed that his brother's leg had been severed with a Hellgun by one of the Arbiters. A fist-sized hole had punched through his chest as well – probably the work of some Pskyer in the midst of the Arbiters.

He saw blood.

He looked around for any more movement. His senses were keener than a normal Space Marine's and therefore he was superior. He was as ravenous as his comrades and for a moment, he thought about feasting on the flesh of his fallen brother. His nostrils flared as he took in the scent of fresh fear sweat. He turned slowly and noted the slender little man on the floor, hiding beneath a couple of bodies. His glossy eyes stared up at the monster of a man and for a moment, he thought he might be able to escape. He did not dare move a muscle.

He licked his lips slowly.

"I take no pleasure in killing," the monster began. "Not like my brothers, anyway." The monster seemed to be talking to the man – who was likely still just a boy. A faint smile came upon his lips. "Tell me, boy, how good of an artificer are you?" He gaped in horror. He was still unable to get over the fact that two men had blasted into the war room and killed thirty Arbiters, the Planetary Governor, his retinue AND the Inquisitors that had been here to interrogate the governor. He didn't even want to imagine how many of the palace guard laid dead in the lower levels.

An explosion rocked the stronghold and flakes of plaster fell from the ceiling. Books fell from shelves and the large table in the center of the war room flickered as it lost power. The hologram of their world, Ulysses XIV, shimmered in and out of existence before disappearing as power failed. The only thing that gave light was the runes along the daemon blade and was the only way the boy knew where the monster was.

He wanted to kill.

Red emergency lights flickered on as the back-up generators kicked in; making the blood that was everywhere less visible, but still did not help the situation.

"Well," he continued, "I suppose you'll be crushed to death."

No, this can't be happening. None of this is real!

"Wait," the boy yelled, "Stop! Don't leave me to die!"

The monster was almost at the door which slowly slid apart to conserve power. He turned to view the boy, but made no comment. He slowly crawled out of the pile of corpses.

"I will join you," the boy said a bit shakily, "In allegiance of Chaos."

As the cathedral crumbled behind the monster and his new minion, the boom of something breaking the sound barrier cracked over the desolate desert. Sand was thrown everywhere as a giant metal beast of an aircraft hovered before landing in the sand. The pair loaded into the Thunderhawk in silence, unbothered by the few Battle-Brothers within.


End file.
